


number one fan

by kareofbears



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kareofbears/pseuds/kareofbears
Summary: At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.Especially when someone unexpected is sitting close by.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 22
Kudos: 98





	number one fan

**Author's Note:**

> eternally grateful for my [beta, maddy,](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5358922/Sesshomarusama3) who is willing to put up with me no matter the time of day <3

At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.

“Man, it’s so effin’ crowded here,” Ryuji grumbles, half-shoving people out of the way. They learned early on to make him spearhead the group in packed environments, given that he’s the only one with enough guts to openly ask crowds to move out of the way. He’s like a pissed-off shepherd towing his sheep.

“What do you expect?” Makoto sighs, one hand gripping Haru’s wrist and the other clutching Ann’s jacket, kindergarten style. “This is something like the semi-finals, right?” 

Akira shrugs, his shoulder rubbing against Ryuji’s from the sheer proximity. “No clue.”

“Didn’t she give you the tickets?”

“Sure she did, but it’s not like it came with some kind of gymnastics handbook.”

“Does anyone even know what _type_ of gymnastics she’s in?” Haru asks, grip tightening around Makoto’s hand when a group of enthusiasts threatens to break them apart. 

Ann’s eyes light up. “Oh, the one with the string twirling, right? She posted it on her Insta the other day, she looked _so_ good.”

“She did! I can only imagine how rigorous her regimen must be.”

“Do you think she’d give me her secret? I wonder if she even lets herself snack.”

"I think so? She posted some desserts on her story recently."

Ryuji scratches his head. "There's more than one type of gymnastics?"

Makoto lets her head drop forward. "We don't deserve these tickets."

Akira turns his head back to the rest of them. "We're getting close to our seats," he says with a raised voice to combat the noisy crowd ('raised' only in the sense that it's slightly louder than his usual soft tone. Akira is a man of many talents, but voice projection is not one of them).

Someone from a step above them knocks their elbow into Akira's head, enough to make him stumble back a few steps, surprised.

Ryuji sends a glare at the stranger, eyes dark. "Hey, watch it, you motherfu—"

"And here are our seats!" Makoto claps her hands. "Let's sit before we do something illegal!"

Akira cards through Ryuji's hair, a silent _thank you, I love you, but please calm down._

Eventually, he relents. "Fine."

Ann collapses into one of the bright red, plastic seats. "Thank God, my feet were killing me."

Haru joins her, grimacing. "Why are these seats so sticky...?"

"Because whenever they do a real good flip, the fanatics piss themselves."

"Ryuji, what the hell?"

"Sorry."

"Okay everyone," Makoto peers down at her phone. "Competition starts in two minutes. Settle in, but don’t go to the bathroom."

"Don't go to the bathroom?" Akira raises an eyebrow. "Are you Ushimaru?"

"I'm just saying that, given our position, we're basically stuck to our seats until everyone else leaves."

"For real?" Ryuji groans. "I really wanted one of those hot dogs they have, where they're yelling out 'hot dogs!' and shit."

"This isn't some American baseball game, dumbass," Ann snorts.

"I know that!"

Haru points past Ryuji. "If you're really desperate to go, you might be able to ask that man to move his tripod aside to make room for you."

"You're totally right! What a good senpai," he casts a grin at Haru before calling out to the man a few seats down from them. He's dressed bulkily for such a packed stadium: a thick black hoodie with the hood up, and a thick pair of black shades. To top it all off, he has an annoyingly big tripod in front of him with an expensive-looking camera perched on top. "Yo! 'Scuse me!"

Ryuji blinks as the man almost seemed to shift away from him. "Uh, hello? I just got a quick question."

To everyone's surprise, the man seemed to turn even more, his torso twisted in the opposite direction. 

Makoto squints. “Maybe he didn’t hear you?” 

“Whatever, it’s about to start anyway,” Ryuji falls back into his chair. “I’ll just ask him again when I actually need to go. Oh, look it’s her!”

Sumire stands with her coach, dressed in a bright leotard and a determined expression on her face, nodding along intently. 

Ann leans forward over the railing. “Go Yoshizawa! Woo! Come on guys, we’re here to cheer!”

“Well, she _did_ give us the best seats… it only makes sense that we make the most of them.” Haru says, before cupping her hands over her mouth. “Let’s go, Yoshizawa!”

“Hell yeah, Yoshizawa!”

“You can do it!”

“Gymnastics.”

“Akira, you suck.”

Sumire looks up, eyes brightening as she waves back enthusiastically in their direction. To their surprise, she brings her hands together to make a heart. 

“That’s sweet of her,” Haru comments. “I wonder who that was for.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Probably Akira.”

“It’s for Akira.”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t think so,” Akira frowns. “She’s never done that before.”

“Man, don’t try to be all humble—everyone _knows_ she had a thing for you.”

“In the first ten minutes, maybe. Now she’s just a little sister,” Akira waves at Sumire. “Go back to cheering.” 

“Good idea,” Ryuji takes a deep breath. “ _Give me a Y!_ ”

“Y!” Ann yells back. 

“ _Give me an O!_ ” 

“O!”

Makoto rubs her temples. “We really don’t deserve these tickets.” 

— 

The competition goes off without a hitch, Sumire taking first place with ease. If the people around them were exasperated with their cheering before, it’s nothing compared to how they screamed their throats raw when she accepted her gold medal. The stranger in the black hoodie kept throwing them dirty looks, but they didn’t care. 

“I’m so thirsty,” Ann rasps, once the award ceremony wraps up. “Anyone have water?”

“Nope,” Ryuji stands, stretching his arms above his head. “I need the bathroom pretty bad, though.” 

To their misfortune, people are still slowly filing out of their seats, too slow for their liking. There’s a gap in the crowd, but the only way to get to it is through—

“The man is still there?” Haru asks. 

“It seems so,” Makoto says. “He’s probably a huge fan of the whole gymnastics scene, given the way he’s so careful with his camera.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I gotta _go_ ,” Ryuji says, before turning to the man once more. “Sorry dude, gotta move past you for real this time.”

And just like before, the man steadfastly ignores him. Akira narrows his eyes.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave lower. Everyone stiffens. The words he spoke did not belong to Kurusu Akira and is now owned by someone donned in a long, black tail-coat, armed with a knife as sharp as a tack. “Please move. My partner here is trying to walk past you.” 

And still, the man doesn’t shift. 

Ryuji places a hand on Akira’s forearm. “Chill,” he says, running his hand up and down in what he hopes is a soothing manner. Ryuji might be the one on a hair-trigger temper, but no one has anything on Akira if someone so much as looks at his friends the wrong way. ”It’s cool, ‘Kira. If the dude’s busy, then he’s busy. We’ll just wait for the other side to file out, yeah?” 

Akira smiles, just a little. “I love you.”

“Love you too, dude.”

“—but you’re too nice.” He rips his arm from Ryuj’s lax grip and saunters over to the man. 

“ _Respect,_ ” Ann mutters, impressed. 

“ _Stupid,_ ” Makoto rectifies, facepalming

“Hi there,” Akira greets, faux cheerful in a tone they recognize as his customer service voice. “Still ignoring us? That’s cool,” he shrugs a shoulder. “We’re used to it. Not a problem—we know how to be heard.”

In one, swift movement, Akira stands in front of the tripod. 

Ryuji covers his eyes, peeking through his fingers. “I’m dating an actual bastard.”

The man visibly bristles and looks up to send Akira a black look from under his hood. 

“Can you—” he hisses, before cutting himself off. “I mean,” clearing his throat, he drops his voice to a low grunt, not too different from a child impersonating an old man. “Move, dammit!” 

Haru frowns. “That voice…”

The man shoots her a dirty look, before quickly turning his sight downward, but he was too slow: they’ve all already caught a glimpse of his panicked brown eyes. 

“Alright, I’ll move,” he says in the same gruff voice. “Just leave me alone—”

Akira bends down slightly, squinting at the man who’s avidly attempting to pull down his hood even more. 

Squirming in his seat, “Young man, you are being extremely rude and hostile and I don’t appreciate—” 

Akira reaches forward to grab his hood and forces it back, allowing Akechi Goro’s hair to flow down on his shoulders. 

They all stilled, frozen in shock. Eyes widened, mouths openly gaping. Only Akira’s expression remained unchanged; cool and filled with disdain.

Ryuji is the first to speak. “I _really_ hope I didn’t just piss myself.” 

“What—” Ann splutters. “What are you—why the _hell—_ I just—”

Makoto’s hand are alternating between making a numbered list with her fingers and gesticulating wildly. “So you’re in a gymnastics competition, and you’re actively hiding from us, and you have a _camera_ which is weird at _best,_ why are you—”

“I truly want to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Akechi-kun,” Haru cuts in. “But I’m kind of struggling to find—”

“Bro, like, a _camera?_ You weren’t even trying to hide how weird this—”

“I know a thing or two about creeps and—”

“Oh, would you all give it a rest, you damn _dolts!_ ” Akechi snaps. “Your insistent cheering from earlier is already giving me a migraine.” 

Akira narrows his eyes. “You don’t get to talk to them like that.”

“I just don’t understand, Akechi,” Makoto’s brows furrows. “You could have avoided being caught if you had just moved out of the way before sounding the alarm bells through Akira’s head.”

Leaning back into his chair, Akechi shoots her an incredulous look. “I wasn’t going to do that.”

“Why not?” Ann asks. “Do you really just love pissing us off?”

“No, I didn’t even know you clowns were beside me until it was too late,” he shoots a glare somewhere down towards the mats. “I couldn’t have moved this camera because…” 

Everyone leans forward, awaiting his response as Akechi trails off. He blinks slowly. 

“Hello?” Ryuji asks, incredulous. “What the hell was that? Why’d you stop talking?”

“You know what?” he stands abruptly, words flying out of his mouth. “I don’t need to answer any of your questions like some kind of interrogation,” shoving his arms through his jacket. “I know my rights,” he plucks the camera off of the tripod and closes its legs with a _snap._ “I’m a detective.”

With a dignified tilt of his head, he turns to leave only for Akira to cut him off by placing a foot on the stadium chair. “Nice try.”

“Move,” Akechi spits through gritted teeth.

“Nope.”

“Not before you tell us why you were recording Yoshizawa-chan,” Haru smiles. 

Ann points at Akechi like she’s about to challenge him to a duel. “We care about her too much to let this go, so fess up!” 

Rubbing his temples, “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“Then explain yourself!” Makoto says.

“ _No._ ”

“Hold on, guys.”

Everyone turns to Ryuji, who’s squinting at Akechi. “We got these dope tickets from Yoshizawa, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So how did this geezer get his hands on his?”

Akira’s eyes twinkle. “Now that’s a fantastic question.”

“I’m sure you all had an absolute grandiose time finding a brand new way to annoy me,” Akechi drawls. “But you aren’t going to get a _single_ word out of—”

“Goro!”

They all turn to the sound of a familiar voice, only to blink when Yoshizawa Sumire comes running towards them, dressed out of her leotard and into her black tracksuit. 

Akechi’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back. “No, go away Sumire. I’ll—I’ll meet you downstairs—”

“Yeah, right! That’s what we’ve been doing, but then you didn’t show up. You got me worried! Thought the crowd ate you up.” Sumire rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Hello, senpais!” Bowing deeply, “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to us.”

Slowly, they all turn to stare at Akechi, who’s expression is contorting in a strange way—his lips are pursed, and his arms are crossed in a defensive manner. 

“Um…” Ann blunders. “Yup.”

“It was our pleasure,” Akira covers for her, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Congrats on the win.” 

Sumire lights up. “Thank you! Speaking of—” she turns to Akechi, hands on her hips. “Tell me you didn’t forget to record me this time. And _please_ tell me I’m in frame. Last time was a mess.” 

Akechi gives her a dirty look but nods all the same. “Of course I did, who do you think I am?” 

“Hurray!” she claps her hands together. “Funny story, actually. At my last competition, I asked Goro to film me—”

“Sumire,” he hisses at her, but she ignores him. 

“But people kept moving the camera and messing it all up! It was a miracle that I had one more competition before the finals came up—I seriously need that footage for practice.”

She laughs, light and trill; a perfect juxtaposition to Akechi’s dark, defeated expression. 

“Okay,” Ryuji shakes his head. “What the fuck is going on?”

“What Ryuji _actually_ means to ask is,” Makoto averts. “Are you two…” 

“Friends?” Akira finishes. His eyes flicker between the two of them like he’s working out an incredibly difficult equation. “Are you two friends?”

“I don’t _have_ friends,” Akechi insists, the same time Sumire beams, “We’re best friends!” 

A beat passes.

“Would you all stop _staring_ at me?” Akechi snaps, and they all immediately look away, but it was too late. They’ve finally nailed his expression, one so strange to see on him that it took much longer than it needed to: 

Akechi Goro is _embarassed._

“Wow,” Haru whispers. 

Sumire peers down at her watch and yelps. “Shoot, it’s that late? Sorry, everyone, we have to leave. Goro treats me whenever I get that first place.” 

“Does he now?” Akira remarks innocently. Akechi’s glare can wither flowers. 

He drops his foot, allowing Akechi to stride past him a little too quick to be nonchalant. 

“Oh, don’t forget this.” Akira swoops down to pick up the forgotten tripod, handing it to Akechi. When their hands touch, he whispers, “Besties, huh?”

“I’ll fucking end you.”

“Third time’s the charm.”

Yanking his hand away, Akechi stalks off. Sumire sighs. 

“Such a drama queen! But I should leave, too.” She bows once more. “Thank you again.”

“No…problem…” Makoto trails off when Sumire runs to Akechi’s side, casually linking arms with him. 

Silence encompasses the group. 

“That’s weird, right?” Ryuji finally asks. “Like, I’m not wrong for thinking that was really fucking weird, right?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Makoto confirms. 

“Really?” Akira muses. “I can kind of see it.”

Ann rubs her temples. “Whatever. That whole thing plus my dehydration just gave me the world’s biggest headache.” 

“Ryuji, don’t you need to go to the bathroom?” Haru reminds him kindly. 

“Huh? Oh. I don’t know, I think I’ve might have just moved past it.” 

“Gross.” 

“Shut up, Takamaki. Let’s leave, I hate it here.”

“Because you peed yourself?”

“I did _not._ ”

— 

“I despise you.” 

Sumire doesn’t look up from her slice of carrot cake. “No, you don’t.”

Their usual cafe was near empty in thanks to the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening and barely anyone knows this place exists—only a barista is inside with them, trying his best to text on his phone in secrecy and failing miserably. She can feel Akechi's glare at her from across the table, though there’s no heat behind it. (There hasn’t been heat behind it for a long time.)

“No,” Akechi agrees. “I don’t.”

She glances up at him. He hasn’t touched his tart yet. “But you’re upset with me.”

His brows scrunch slightly as he rolls his answer around his head. This was to be expected. 

“No,” he decides. “I’m not upset, either. But I honestly cannot for the life of me figure out why you would do that. I _hate_ them, Sumire, and you know that.” Picking up his fork, he prods at his fruit tart absentmindedly. “You’re a good person, even if you aren’t nice—”

“Only to you I’m not.”

“—so you won’t do anything that would disconcert me in a legitimate way on purpose.”

Her shoulders tense. “Did it disconcert you?” 

“It unsettled me, sure. But only because I knew where their tickets came from, and it certainly didn’t come from Takamaki’s profound interest in gymnastics.”

“Unsettled you?”

Akechi gives her an exasperated look. “You’re going to make me say it?”

“How about a deal?” she offers, smiling ever so lightly. “You say it out loud and I’ll tell you why I did it.”

Sighing, he heavily leans back into his chair. “I despise the idea of them seeing me… like _that._ ”

“Like a human being?”

“Like I’m weak,” he corrects. 

“Seeing you in a normal setting with a friend," she settles.

“You’re pushing it.”

Her smile widens. An _odd_ setting is more accurate. It’s only in a gymnastics setting that she can really get a reaction out of him—rarely does he act the way he did. It’s his own brand of sweet that’s really grown on her. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she starts, setting down her fork. “But I don’t agree with what you said.”

“Shocker. Which part?”

“About you hating them.”

When she doesn’t continue, he kicks her shin lightly. “Don’t be cryptid.” Which is his way of saying _talk to me._

Sumire kicks him back. “I’m not! I’m just thinking.”

She chooses her words with care. “You said something, a while ago,” she says slowly. “Like way, way back. It was kind of offhand, and you probably said it as a way to prove how much you hated them or something. But you mentioned that Kurusu-senpai—and the rest of his lovely friends—were the first people to really treat you like…a person.”

Akechi blinks, and she feels her eyes soften. Of course he thought (or hoped) that she’d forgotten a detail like that. 

“And yes, lots of stuff happened in between,” she continues. “Lots and lots of stuff. Stuff I’ll probably never know about. But…I owe them, I think.” Sumire shrugs. “They took care of you before I could have. So I was worried that it bugged you when you lost touch with them.” 

Akechi was quiet for a moment before he knits his brows together. “And that led you to try and Cupid me with them during your semi-final?”

“When you say it like _that—_ ”

“‘Losing touch’ is very different from what actually happened,” he cuts off, leaning forward. “And just because they didn’t treat me like a famous asshole from television absolutely did not create some kind of fostered kinship.” 

Akechi’s eyes never soften, never lose focus, but occasionally they can lose some of their steel. Warmth engulfs her as she watches it happen now. “For the record, no. It doesn’t bother me,” he hesitates. “Not…not anymore.” 

Just as quick as it arrived, the moment passes. Straightening up, “And you? Does it bug you?”

She blinks. “What does?”

“That I make for a lackluster cheerleader.”

Sumire laughs, too loud for the near-empty cafe. Impossible. He may be a mess with words, would rather pull out his own teeth than confess vulnerability, but he’s shown up to every single one of her competitions and sat through the entire thing. From warm-ups to the awards ceremony, it’s undoubtedly a grueling time to spend his day, and as much as he loves to complain about it, whenever she looks up from the mat, he’s always there in the exact same spot without fail. 

She snags a strawberry off of his tart, making him click his tongue harmlessly at her. 

“You’re more than enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> yeah im still not done talking about platonic akesumi. thank you so much for reading! if you liked it, consider dropping a kudo or maybe even a comment! thank you and I hope you all stay safe and have a lovely day
> 
> [my tumblr](https://kareofbears.tumblr.com/)


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